


Compendium Catastrophe

by andachippedcup



Series: Domestic Belle [13]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup





	Compendium Catastrophe

The day had started off in relative peace. He’d kissed his wife goodbye at the door and gone on his merry way to the pawn shop, sold a few trinkets, harassed a few patrons (within reason, of course) and then he’d returned home in the early evening, so as to spend the rest of the day enjoying his wife’s company.

However, when he walked through the front door, the peace was promptly shattered.

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing.” Belle accused him, her tone both biting and flabbergasted. “Of all the rotten things to do! You’re…you’re….oh,  _bugger_!” She shouted at him angrily as she stormed off and up the stairs, leaving her husband torn between feeling abashed and amused.

He’d never seen Belle so visibly and  _audibly_ angry before but he’d apparently gone and done it now. He still wasn’t entirely certain what ‘it’ was but judging by her reaction, he must have messed up pretty severely. Honestly though, he couldn’t think what he’d done. He’d been on his best behavior lately, just for her.

Though, he  _might_ have made a comment about shoelessness to the woman who lived in a shoe.

And it was possible that he  _might_ have made a comment about a terminator around Archie.

And he might have mentioned the words ‘pound’ and ‘dog-catcher’ in Ruby’s vicinity.

But really, on the whole, he’d been a saint. So why on earth his little wife was yelling ‘bugger’ at the top of her lungs was beyond him, honestly.

He’d begun to ascend the stairs after her when there was a sudden clatter and a single, heeled shoe (candy apple red, must have been one of Ruby’s shopping suggestions) landed near him and he froze. He looked up to the top of the staircase where his wife was standing with arms crossed, the other heel in hand.

“I surrender.” He pleaded, putting up both hands in front of himself in a show of innocence as his wife stared him down.

“Well I should think so.” She mumbled as she tapped her fingers on her arm. “You  _are_ the one in the wrong, after all.” She added, frowning down at him judgmentally.

“Ah yes…. _about that_.” He stammered, leaning against the banister as he looked up at her. “What ah… what exactly are the charges against me?”

His wife’s gaze narrowed and her right eye gave a little twitch, as if he had a lot of nerve to ask such a thing. Whatever he’d done, it must have been glaringly obvious to Belle, which only puzzled him all the more. Belle wasn’t the kind to get worked up over little things. Things like setting a wraith on the mayor? Yes, as he’d learned from experience. But little things? She shared his humor in some regards and she was rather forgiving and so he was absolutely, positively stumped.

“You” she began and descended a few steps closer to him with careful, measured strides, “took a book from the library, read it, then  _bent the corners of the pages_ to keep your place!!” She hissed and heavens help him, she must have taken lessons from Maleficent because his wife bore a strong resemblance to a dragon, all puffed up and angry and practically  _breathing fire_.

“O-oh. Did I now?” He asked timidly. His wife only nodded scornfully and continued to approach him and for once, her proximity was not a tantalizing idea.

“You did. And  _then_ you took the book out into the garden. And you left it there. I found it. But not until after Hamlet did.” She growled, producing the book from where, he wasn’t entirely certain.

The cover of the book ( _A Compendium of Spells, Curses, & Hexes)_, worn to begin with was now stained with muddy little cloven hoof prints (that damn bacon slice would pay for this latest sabotage,  _of course_  her pet pig would ruin the thing and pin the blame on him). The pages were wrinkled in a way that suggested water had come into contact with them, likely from the sprinklers or the drip systems in the garden. And yes, he could see from here the creasing where he’d folded some of the corners to keep his place.

All in all, he really had done a number on the book but to be fair, he’d never really worried about such matters in the old world. His books were lucky if they survived a day of use without having dragon’s blood or phoenix tears spilled on them, or basilisk venom burning through them. Such trifles were never very pressing when one could wave a hand and fix the book, something he’d taken to doing rather regularly, honestly. (The price for such magic was rather small; the worst he’d ever paid was the loss of a toenail after he’d had to use magic to restore a centuries old tome some hundred pages thick. The toenail had grown back and the book had been restored, allowing him to finish brewing a certain potion for a rather bothersome sea witch.)

“I’m…sorry?” He breathed softly, the words almost a question more than a statement as he stared wide eyed at his wife, trying his best not to laugh at her. She fixed him with a cool scowl and after some moments, finally pulled away from him, apparently satisfied that he meant it.

“I want you to fix it as best you can.” She commanded of him, placing the battered book in his hands with a reverence that bespoke her love of the written word. She then turned away and began back up the stairs, her posture much more relaxed than it had been mere minutes before.

But then he had to go and open his mouth.

“Ah…fix it? Dearie, why not buy a new one altogether?” He asked, holding up the abused book casually. His wife whirled to face him, the wrath on her face informing him he’d awoken a whole new monster.

“Buy. A. New. One?!” She asked, emphasizing each word. “No, Rumplestiltskin! I won’t have it! This book is ours. We bought it and it is ours and we will not replace it simply because  _you_ were careless. It still has all the same information to offer! It’s just a little less pretty on the outside.” She added more softly, reaching out to stroke the book cover gently. “And really, you’re not supposed to judge them by their covers anyway.” She commented, shooting him a pointed gaze.

This was his wife. The woman who didn’t care in the slightest about red wine being spilled upon the carpet, or the bathroom being inundated with bubbles post-bubble bath. She cares not about candle wax upon the furniture if candles have been knocked over, nor does she fret over the explosion of flour in the kitchen after her precious pet Hamlet got into the pantry and destroyed everything.

But so much as harm one page on one bound book and she’d string you from your toes and leave you for dead. He was jolted from such amusing thoughts when she spoke again, more gently this time. 

“Fix it. Please? Try?” She asked and he nodded slowly, watching as a smile stole across her face and she leaned in to kiss him. The kiss, however, never made it to his cheek as she turned away at the last possible moment, her brows raised in amusement.

“Oh, there’ll be none of that until after it is fixed. Just so you know.” She smirked before she flitted away and out of his reach, disappearing at the top of the staircase. He was left blinking in surprise, a little shocked that his wife seemed to have cornered him into fixing the damn thing by withholding physical affection.

She was a little minx, that one.

He’d have to see about getting the library opened up with her as the permanent staffer. If his wife could make  _him_ feel guilty for mishandling a book, certainly the mere mortal masses would stand no chance against her charm.

With Belle as librarian, he sincerely doubted anyone would abuse a book again. And those overdue book fees? Well, he had a feeling that for the first time in Storybrooke history, people would actually start paying. After all, how could you say no to a face like Belle’s?

He certainly couldn’t  And so it was that he made his way down the stairs and off in search of a certain puppet boy with a certain knack for fixing books. 

August owed him anyway. 


End file.
